


Who Did This?

by EverFascinated, Nenagh24 (EverFascinated)



Series: Fictober 2020 [3]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Fictober 2020, Gen, Lots of Isu Artifact exploration, Reality vs Video Game mechanics, Self-Indulgent, Time Travel, because I love everybody in this, except Juno because she needs to chill with the whole enslave everyone thing, via Minerva and Isu Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:55:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26797699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverFascinated/pseuds/EverFascinated, https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverFascinated/pseuds/Nenagh24
Summary: Desmond always wondered if the guards of Acre were bold enough to call out for murderers to show themselves or if it was just a function of the animus. Now, in this semi-endless life before he succumbed to the power of the Eye, he might as well find out. It's not like he had anything better to do, right?
Series: Fictober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947883
Comments: 52
Kudos: 242





	1. Chapter 1

“Who did this?” The guard yelled, standing over the body of his fallen companion. No one replied, the crowd muttering to each other as they gave the scene a wide berth.

“Huh.” So they really did say that, then? Desmond always thought it was a simplification of the Animus that turned some of the guards of Acre into buffoons. “Well, learn something new every day, I suppose.”

Idlily, he kicked a heel against the side of the building he was sitting on just a handful of meters from the scene. The guards wouldn’t find the true perpetrator as Altaïr was probably halfway to his actual objective by now, but Desmond was more curious about how guards handled unsolved deaths in this time period than what the brotherhood's newest mentor was doing. He could always see it later.

Time was a bit meaningless to him now.

The guard finally looked up to scan the rooftops. At least five minutes too late by Desmond’s estimation. He tensed when the man looked his way, but the reflex was unnecessary. The guard’s eyes passed over him like everyone else’s.

Desmond sighed, wondering if he’d ever get used to the fact that he was both here and not here.

Minerva called it a boon and while he supposed a small infinity of time travel was a better side effect than instant death, Desmond was quickly growing tired of being alone in every crowd.

Not that he was actually sure how long ‘quickly’ was. It was difficult to measure time when it bent to his every whim. Heck, he was surprised he didn’t go crazy before he got a handle on _not_ throwing himself around willy-nilly. 

The emotional and nearly physical whiplash of jumping to his birth, to Ezio’s birth, to Ezio’s death, to Altaïr’s death as fast as his thoughts made the associations was exhausting. Desmond wasn’t sure what he was now, but it was probably a good thing he didn’t have a human body anymore or he would have died at least three times over, from a stroke and a heart attack if nothing else.

“You did this?” Came the guard's voice from below once again.

Blinking out of his ruminations, Desmond frowned down at the guard who was now shaking a frightened looking monk.

How did that happen?

The world froze and took on a golden sheen, lines and numbers appearing at seemingly random locations. Then, like some higher power hit a rewind button on life itself, time reversed itself ever so slightly.

“Damn it.” Desmond gripped the edge of the roof a little tighter, frowning as he focused his thoughts. It was hard to remember that _he_ was now that higher power, even if he couldn't change anything.

Below him, the monk was once again yanked towards the guard and time snapped back into place.

No need to throw everything around again when he could just use deductive reasoning. Cheating wasn't necessary for a couple of minutes of inattentiveness in Desmond's opinion.

“You did this?” 

The guard gestured towards the dead body and the monk shook his head wildly, but that question…

That wasn’t the same voice or intonation as before. 

What the hell?

Desmond turned sharply to look over his shoulder towards the sound of the new voice, almost falling off the roof as he did. 

His breath caught in his throat.

Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad was crouched not three meters from him, glaring in his direction.

Desmond couldn’t help but freeze for a moment under that unnaturally gold gaze.

Who was he talking to?

A quick glance to try and follow the line of that glare didn’t reveal anyone else. 

Desmond frowned as a thought made him feel like he just took a leap of faith without looking down first.

He tried to squash it. Checking to see if Eagle Vision could let his ancestors see him was one of his first tests once he got a hold of how the power worked.

Watching Ezio’s eyes stare right through him as he avenged his family was almost too much to bear and Desmond had slipped further into the past to escape it. The urge to jump away and let the world move around him made everything around him take on that golden hue once more.

Desmond hesitated, not sure where else he could even run to. Maybe Connor?

Was it just him or was that glare even stronger now?

“So it was you.” Altaïr’s glowing eyes flickered a bit before leveling another glare at Desmond.

 _At_ Desmond.

The man was not only moving, but talking in the realm of the calculations - talking to Desmond.

Holy shit.

_How?_

“Uh, hi?” Desmond offered with an awkward wave.

The hood made it difficult, but Desmond had a feeling that Altaïr was distinctly unimpressed.

Desmond really was terrible at first impressions, wasn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with more chapters because time shenanigans are fun!
> 
> Prompt 3: you did this?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Altaïr wants his questions answered

Golden symbols danced at the edges of his vision, flickering what he assumed to be numbers and letters though he only understood a few of them. Understanding wasn’t necessary for recognition, however, and over the past few months Altaïr had seen something similar from an artifact that people went to war over. 

Were _still_ going to war over, if his informants in the city were any good.

The Apple of Eden.

The symbols were telling, but not as important as the man awkwardly turning around at the other side of the rooftop. Altaïr stared him down even though it felt a little like he was staring at the sun, the man’s importance lighting him from within when viewed through the eyes of an eagle. 

How had he missed him earlier?

Even without this enhanced vision the man's clothes would stick out like a sore thumb. A short hooded tunic bisected by some sort of metal paired with pants made from a stiffer material but not armor. The man should be the talk of the town.

Instead, he sat at the edge of a roof unseen even when Altaïr dashed up the wall and passed him after a violent encounter with a guard on the street.

It was only when he was hit by the strangest feeling, like he’d already been there and _further_ , that made Altaïr slow enough to recognize the golden haze to Acre’s misty roads. His habit of double checking his surroundings paid off, but he still didn’t know why a second look would be needed in the first place.

This artifact the man had, was it different from the Apple? Instead of showing the world - it was a _globe_ and Altaïr didn’t know if he could quite believe it even now - perhaps it was made for hiding.

A useful artifact that would be deadly in the wrong hands.

Blinking against the stinging light in his eyes even as his hood shaded them from the sun, Altaïr scowled at the man now standing across from him. 

A very familiar man.

His scowl deepened as he took in the similarities along with the differences.

Did the artifact let him use the faces of others as well?

“Who are you?” He demanded. Pleasantries he saved for allies and Altaïr didn’t have time to be polite to a potential threat. “How are you doing this?”

Altaïr tensed as the man raised a hand. The man noticed and held it open to show that it was empty before using it to rub at the back of his neck. He may recognize his face, but Altaïr was sure that he’d never used it to look so openly chagrined.

“Straight to the difficult questions, huh?” Sighing, the man pulled his hand from his neck and held it out to Altaïr. “Let’s start with the easier one. I’m Desmond.”

Was he trying to get Altaïr to lower his guard? He barely glanced down at the hand before looking back up at ‘Desmond’ without moving.

“Ah, right.” Seeming to realize how idiotic the gesture was, Desmond pulled his hand back, curling it into a loose fist before jamming it into a strangely angled pocket on his tunic. “The 'how' is a lot more complicated.”

When he didn’t continue, Altaïr grew impatient and stepped closer.

“Then show me.” Show him which of the items could create this effect. Be simple enough to let him know what it was and how it was hidden. Allow him to put such an artifact in the safest of hands.

His.

Altaïr stopped short and frowned at his own thoughts.

When had the ‘safest hands’ become his own? True, when Al Mualim was using the apple to enslave his people, any hands were safer. After that he intended to keep it from people with similar intentions like the Templars, but that didn’t necessarily become _his_.

So focused on figuring out where this incessant urge of want, get, possess came from, Altaïr almost missed the way Desmond’s eyes narrowed in return, the golden flash of the eyes of an eagle staring back at him.

“You don’t have the Apple on you and she’s still managing to do this?”

‘She’?

Gold faded from the air and the noises of the city started echoing up to the roof once more.

He hadn’t noticed the lack. 

His mind stuttered as all of the inconsistencies made themselves known. He hadn't tried to gather any information before his initial comment nor had he armed himself in any way before taking those steps towards Desmond. His right hand pressed to his throwing knives even as his left remembered the feel of his hidden blade.  It was like a fog lifted from his mind.

Altaïr didn't like it.

Drifting back a little into a more defensible position, he glared.

“Was this your doing?”

Desmond made a noncommittal open handed gesture while grimacing.

“Not exactly,” he finally said, “but I may have given her an opening unintentionally.”

He was growing frustrated with these half-answers. It was almost as bad as when he consulted the Apple itself! And Malik asked why he didn't enjoy doing so. He tapped his nails against the hilts of the knives along his waist and tried to remain calm. Letting his anger guide him was a luxury of a novice not a Mentor of the Brotherhood.

“An opening?” Altaïr pressed only to receive an impatient shooing motion in return.

“Look, you better leave now.” Looking over his shoulder down at the increased volume from the crowds below, Desmond frowned. “We can’t have this conversation here and, since I can’t pull us out anymore, they’ll be up here soon to check the roofs.”

“Pull us out-”

“There’s no time!” Desmond cut in then paused for an incongruous huff of laughter before pointing in the direction Altaïr previously intended to go. “Get out of here before they see you.”

“And you?” He asked suspiciously. Why the concern for him when Desmond was making no attempts to leave? A ploy?

“Not everyone has your eyes Altaïr.” 

And then Desmond dropped off the his side of the roof, Altaïr’s lunge for him just missing.

Turning the lunge into a slide, Altair braced one foot against the edge of the roof and looked down in time to see Desmond drop easily to the ground. He took the time to dust off his odd tunic as he walked away, the crowd parting for him as he went.

Not one of them so much as glanced in the strangely dressed man’s direction. Even the guard who was still shouting for justice ignored Desmond to focus on some innocent monks who were helping a fellow stand.

Altaïr blinked his vision back to normal, letting bright colors fade and the grey scenery revive itself.

Desmond was gone.

A couple more blinks had the man flickering as he went, already reaching the end of the street.

He wasn’t going to let a stranger with such dangerous knowledge go that easily.

Moving to where the rooftops met, Altaïr started mentally mapping out his path when a voice from one side caught him by surprise.

“Assassin!” A second guard yelled from where he stood at the top of a ladder.

Altaïr cursed and sprinted for the next roof, glaring down at Desmond’s back as it disappeared around a corner.

He’d have to keep an eye out for him. And on the Apple as well. 

It looked like there was another faction in play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fictober continues and my brain won't leave this AU alone so have another chapter. Updated to be incomplete because Desmond isn't done yet and Altaïr is dang suspicious so more will come eventually.
> 
> Prompt 14: you better leave now


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desmond was a smart guy, but he didn't always think things through before acting. That was getting to be a problem.

Desmond was running, both literally and metaphorically.

He did that a lot when he was still living his life linearly.

The walls of Acre were left behind, making way for the trees and scrublands that surrounded them. Distantly, he noticed the sun slowly falling from where it had hung in the sky, shadows lengthening around him as he dodged fewer and fewer people.

Not that it mattered, they couldn’t touch him anyway.

As it was, he couldn’t remember when he last had to run like this, so he was a bit surprised when he didn’t run out of breath just a few minutes in. It wasn’t like he was sprinting, but he was relatively sure that the loping run he inherited via the Animus training wasn’t supposed to be this easy.

An idle wonder forced its way back to the forefront from where he was trying to suppress it.

Was this even his body still?

Sure, he still felt things and everything seemed to be where it was in the future even down to his scars and tattoo, but he also knew that he was still there in that temple with his hand on the Eye. So if he was physically there, what was he running around in? A copy? Some Isu bullshit duplicate?

Nothing at all?

He snorted a little as he remembered that old story about the ruler who strutted around in his birthday suit after being tricked into thinking it was the finest clothing.

God, he hoped that he didn’t just talk to fucking Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad while functionally nude. That whole situation was embarrassing enough.

Well, it was too late to worry about it now. Besides, there was a slew of other vastly more troubling things to worry about.

Juno for instance.

Desmond’s blood ran cold, slowing his run as he remembered how Altaïr’s posture had shifted. How the man’s back went straight, head lifting to try and take advantage of his shorter stature. The Altaïr in his memories didn’t slouch, but even the arrogant posture from before his first exposure to the Apple couldn’t match the one he wore then.

It’d taken everything Desmond had to keep from jumping off of that roof the instant he turned on his Eagle Vision only to see Juno overshadowing the man. Her glare was terrifying, but there wasn’t a shred of recognition in those baleful eyes.

He had muffled his connection to the Eye as best he could before running to hopefully get out of range. Not of her, she was reaching half way around the world to influence them and nowhere would be far enough, but Altaïr.

Because while she infiltrated the connection from his side, her hooks were somehow lodged firmly in the Brotherhood’s Mentor instead of Desmond himself.

Looking back, it was strange that it took that meeting with her for him to realize that she wasn’t actually in the temple anymore. Not  _ his  _ temple at least. 

Even when he was running around the Grand Temple between sessions as Connor, he always felt her nearly oppressive presence. Like a judgemental boss hovering just over his shoulder, waiting for him to make a mistake. He hadn’t missed it on his travels through the past, but Desmond thought he couldn’t feel it anymore because of the Eye.

He sure as hell felt it just now, however. 

It was hard to say where his certainty that she was no longer in the temple came from, gut instinct maybe. It wasn’t just wishful thinking though.

That meant that as soon as he activated the Eye she must have run for the outside world. He couldn’t say how long he was going to keep it active before it burnt out, especially not now that he was living seconds like they were years and hopping between centuries like it was nothing. Knowing this, the hostile AI consciousness probably fled the moment she could and without looking back, like she was running from a burning building that was on the edge of collapse.

So now the Eye and the Grand Temple were his. Probably. 

For a specific version of ‘now’.

Finally trailing to a stop a few kilometers outside the walls of Acre, Desmond almost missed the feeling of exertion that he would normally have after a run like that. It could have distracted him. A nice reprieve for his mind as it was clamouring with possibilities without more than a whiff of evidence to support them.

Taking a moment to stare out at the unpopulated land around him, Desmond weighed his options.

He could keep running. Time was as infinite as it was short and he had quite a stretch of it to run to even if he avoided Altaïr’s lifetime. 

But the lure of leisurely watching the world go by wasn’t as strong as it once was. The idea of leaving this whole thing well enough alone was still something Desmond enjoyed, but there was a difference between savoring what time he had and becoming a ghostly observer. He’d been content with it when it was his only option other than burning himself out, but after that conversation…

He couldn’t remember how long it’d been since he last talked with anyone. Decades maybe? Piecing all the moments and pauses he’d experienced together was impossible, but the answer might be closer to centuries.

Did he want to go back to that now that he knew there might be an alternative?

Not really. Not without trying to see where this led, at least.

Throwing himself into the golden world where time stood still, Desmond forced himself to try and pull some facts from what just happened.

Altaïr’s Eagle Vision allowed him to see Desmond, but only  _ after  _ he took the Apple from Al Mualim. 

He’d followed the man through the trials for the Apple at least twice already, first to see if he could be seen either by Altaïr or himself via the animus which hadn’t been the case, and then to watch everything that Altaïr hadn’t seen. Malik’s training, Al Mualim’s conversations with his people and those he was betraying, how the others in Masyaf were taking the events.

Not once had anyone reacted to his presence or manipulation of time, not even Al Mualim as he manipulated and was manipulated by the Apple.

The urge to go check if Ezio could see him after receiving his own Apple was strong, but the thought of Juno overshaddowing his Italian ancestor like she did to Altaïr stopped him cold.

Whatever it was that allowed Altaïr to see him now also allowed Juno further reach.

No, that didn’t seem right. The Isu AI definitely needed to use Desmond’s Eye to boost the signal, so the extra boost must come from him. Maybe the Apple did something to those who used it to make it easier for her to continue influencing them from other Pieces of Eden?

If it did, knowing them it’d probably influence a person’s DNA, which might be why so many of his ancestors on both sides of the family came in contact with them. Each one slowly tuned until they reached him.

What a depressing thought. Or extremely egotistical. 

Rolling his eyes at his own thoughts, Desmond shook his head. Turning, he looked for a place to sit, eventually walking over to a crumbling fence that was just about the right height.

Okay, so apparently he wasn’t  _ completely  _ invisible, but the people who he knew would have the ability to see him could be counted on one hand with fingers left over. On top of that if he used his Eye with them nearby, Juno could decide to pop in at any time and possess the other person like some sort of demented boogyman.

Staring down at the golden lines the Eye was currently searing into his right hand somewhere in the future, he tilted his head as a thought occurred to him.

_ Only  _ the other person.

Desmond wasn’t exactly being subtle with his use of the Eye. Hell, this whole time travel thing was basically dropped into his lap with little to no instructions so he was probably doing the equivalent of banging pans around every time he used it.

Yet she never even attempted to possess him. Even though he absolutely used the Apple before.

“Huh.” That didn’t seem like an in Juno would ignore.

Maybe the change wasn’t in the person’s DNA but in the Temple, recording the DNA as someone already under some sort of influence? It would make it easier for her to keep track of what lies she’s told, he supposed.

Where did that leave him? Was there no DNA recorded and therefore no connection? But he was absolutely in the Temple’s database because it was made to react to just him.

Or maybe it was the no physical body thing again.

Running that same hand through his hair frustratedly, Desmond frowned.

Damn it. This was getting too theoretical and possibly too philosophical for him.

The hand that slipped forward to drag down his face in aggravation  _ felt  _ real enough.

Well, ignoring the parts that were giving him a headache already - and how unfair was that? Could run for hours on end without feeling it but could still give himself a headache via overthinking.

He could just hear Shawns comments about it now. Something about meatheads or brainless fools.

Ignoring  _ those  _ as well - what could Desmond do? Or rather, what did he  _ want  _ to do?

A moment of thought passed before he decided to not get too specific with it.

What he ultimately wanted was simple enough. Desmond still wanted the same things he did when he was alive: first and foremost for the world not to burn, but following that he’d like it if Juno would fuck off for the rest of eternity. After those two he was kind of at a loss. 

Maybe a nice vacation on the beach with some nice drinks and good company?

Sidetracked by the thought, he fantasized over the thought of a well made drink. He didn’t need to eat or drink like this or he would have starved a long time ago, but damn if he couldn’t go for a nice cocktail right now.

Shaking that off with some difficulty, he tried to focus on the list. 

The Eye was already doing its thing, so that’s number one checked off. Beachtime fun could be on the board, but he already tried something similar and while the scenery was all he could have asked for, it got a bit dull without anyone to share it with.

So that left him with one last thing to scratch off this strange bucket list.

Evicting Juno it was.

Not that he had any real idea on how to go about it of course. Desmond would joke that it was a good thing he had all the time in the world to plan for it, but planning wasn’t his forte. 

“Guess it’s time to learn, huh?” he asked to the gold flecked sky, not expecting an answer.

Alright, plans. He sat for a moment at a bit of a loss. Even his escape from the Farm hadn’t required much planning. He basically took advantage of a golden opportunity mixed with his understanding of how the place was run.

Maybe starting from a strategy and working his way out would be a good start?

Well, he got the feeling that just waltzing up to her in the Grand Temple wasn’t the wisest idea. Desmond might have run of the place in 2012, but only for a handful of minutes at best and she would always be long gone before he could even attempt to reach her.

While checking in with her back in this time might go better, seeing as the place was running on backup power until they bring in those extra batteries, she wasn’t just there was she? She was in every Piece of Eden as well, reaching out to use those same humans she thinks are beneath her to try and build up an empire to inherit down the line.

Maybe he could start there?

“That’s a thought.” Desmond muttered to himself, tapping his fingers against his jeans as he thought about it.

His Eye versus one PoE.

Even if he ‘lost’ he wouldn’t really lose anything. He was already dying in the future and anyone he could even try to talk with she already had a hold of. If she could hijack his stuff then he was entitled to some of hers, right?

Not that he knew where most of them were, but that just gave him the perfect starting point didn’t it?

One of those Apples was already primed to point out the locations of the rest.

Hopping down from the wall without any further thought, Desmond focused on Masyaf, carefully aiming for Altaïr’s time instead of Ezio’s future visit.

In a blink he was standing in a familiar office. 

It was dark outside instead of the early afternoon he just left, but a candle or three kept the space dimly lit. Scrolls still lined the walls with more than a few others scattered across the large desk. Behind it, Altaïr sat with quill in hand, one of his Codex pages coming together as Desmond watched. 

To one side and within easy reach was the Apple. It glimmered in the shifting candlelight.

He bit at the scar on his lip. 

Usually, at this point he’d just speed the flow of time until he reached the ‘when’ he intended as he was having trouble with specifics, but that wasn’t exactly an option this time. Jumps to locations were simple enough, and rough timeframes he could do, but specific days were a little more difficult.

While he could just walk out of town and speed it up there, he wasn’t sure when it would be safe to return and even then he didn’t know where the Apple was being held within the castle when Altaïr wasn’t using it.

Should he wait for Altaïr to leave? Would he even get far enough away without leaving the castle?

Wait, how often did the Mentor leave his castle in whatever time period he’d landed in? It couldn’t be more than two or three times a year at best going by the amount of paperwork he had around him. 

Judging by the lines on the man’s face it wasn’t too long after they’d last seen each other - and how wild was that - but a glance out the window showed that at least a season had passed, but it was hard to tell how many. That didn’t help answer any of his questions though.

Alright, so maybe the planning thing hadn’t really done much good, Desmond allowed. He should have realized this problem before popping in at least.

While dropping in was easy enough, any further use of the Eye would likely catch Altaïr’s attention and, even if Juno somehow didn’t notice, there were no easy distractions here. Getting out the way he came in could mean pulling the other man along with him which would lead to its own problems.

Well, the decision may have been made on the fly, but he wasn’t just going to walk away. It wasn’t like it was terrible timing, the Apple was out and there wasn’t anyone else in this part of the castle to see them. Only the night patrols were awake, slowly trekking through the lower districts and upper walls as they kept the whole town safe.

Honestly, it was nearly perfect.

It would be nice if he could warn the guy before possibly messing with a being who could possess him, but it’s not like Desmond could throw some paper at him or anything.

“No time like the present, I suppose.” Desmond muttered to himself. 

Any amusement he felt at the statement was wiped away as he ducked back, barely dodging a throwing knife.

He didn’t manage to get out of the way of the next one, but that didn’t matter. Both knives thudded against the shelving behind him and Desmond made a face, rubbing at the area the second knife just flew through.

That felt weird every time.

“Can we not do that?” He asked, looking back up to where Altaïr was now glaring at him across his desk, another knife at the ready.

“What kind of being are you then? A spirit to haunt me for my misdeeds?” The knife glinted in the candlelight but the questions were sharper still.

“You  _ could  _ say that I’m the spirit of what’s yet to come,” Desmond joked, before sighing when it went over like a lead balloon. That’s what he got for making references from stories that weren’t written yet. “Don’t worry, you’re not exactly the one I’m here to see.”

“Yet you sneak into this room where I sit alone before making yourself known.” Came the suspicious reply.

And, alright, yeah, the guy had a point. That definitely didn’t look great.

“I could wait until you leave if that makes you feel better?” Desmond offered blandly. 

Strange how he’d forgotten that Eagle Vision didn’t have any effect on the ears at all. He was just so used to not speaking to anyone that it honestly didn’t occur to him to try.

“And let you riffle through our documents at your leisure? I think not.” Still frowning, Altaïr shifted warily. His hands drifted near the desk and it looked like he was trying to think of a good way to hide the Apple without leaving himself open for an attack.

“Also, not what I’m here for.” Desmond sighed. This wasn’t going anywhere fast. Might as well attempt to explain himself. “Do you remember the last time we met? When you started asking about how I was doing those things?”

Altaïr narrowed his eyes, saying nothing. Desmond took that as a yes.

“Alright, did you notice anything, er, strange about it?” Like being possessed? God, he sounded like a lunatic. 

“Besides your control of time and habit of stealing faces?” Altaïr asked in return.

Desmond paused midway through a nod as the second part of the question filtered in.

“Stealing faces?” A gold lined hand rose to touch his own face before he shook his head with a rueful smile. “Buddy, this has been mine since the day I was born. I can’t be held accountable for genetics.”

That earned him a doubtfully suspicious look that he waved away with a careless hand.

“That’s beside the point.” Time to take a conversational leap of faith because Desmond didn’t have the practice nor patience to figure out a better way to say this. “Look, I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s a will inside the Apple and when I accidently caught you in the freeze it tried to use you.”

Golden eyes glanced down at the item in question before pinning him with another suspicious glare, this one tinged with uncertainty.

“What do you intend to do then? Take it from us?” The question wasn’t angry or crazed so it didn’t seem like the Apple had reached Gollum levels of ‘Precious’ in his eyes yet. Good.

“I just want to touch it and see if I can push them out.” He tried to sound as honest as possible because it was the truth, just extremely simplified. “I won’t even take it from the desk.”

“You want me to let a man capable of invisibility and intangibility hold a device that can enslave everyone around it?” 

This second impression was going just as well as the first, huh? Maybe he should have tried Ezio anyway, at least he knew the name Desmond from Minerva. If this didn’t work, he’d head there.

Sighing, Desmond shrugged. There wasn’t anything he could think of that would make this sound like a better idea to Altaïr.

He could almost hear teeth grinding as the hooded man clenched his jaw.

The silence stretched between them, only the quiet rustling of the wind through the trees outside filtering in through the windows.

With all the fighting Desmond saw in this castle, it sometimes surprised him how peaceful it could be.

“I don’t believe I could stop you if you decided otherwise.” Altaïr finally admitted sharply. “So I accept your terms.”

‘For lack of a better option’ was left unspoken even as it hung heavily in the air.

“Thanks.” Reaching out, Desmond hesitated with his fingers hovering over the Apple. “Just give me a minute... or an hour.”

Or more. He’d never done this before and time was getting more than a little abstract at this point.

As he dropped his hand to the Apple, Desmond could swear that Altaïr just rolled his eyes at him.

And then he was lost in a golden battle of wills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love Desmond even if he sometimes makes poor decisions. He's a roll-with-it kind of guy which I admire as an anxious overthinker lol
> 
> Prompt: give me a minute or an hour


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Altaïr waits as requested, before showing that recklessness runs in the family (even if he doesn't know it).

He waited a minute.

It was a long, tense one. He knew that fighting the Apple’s control wasn’t easy and sometimes it wasn’t possible at all, but Altaïr had to be ready just in case it was turned against him once more.

The golden light flickered softly across the darkened room, but didn’t fade even as his mind and movements remained his own. 

Eyeing the way it reflected off the walls from under his hood, he frowned. It was odd seeing that familiar golden light now that his enhanced vision now saw the Apple outlined in a violent red. The change from the golden of importance to the red of an enemy was the final straw in his decision to allow Desmond access to it.

Objects can glow gold, but only something with a mind of its own can turn red.

Relaxing ever so slightly when nothing else changed, Altaïr studied his unexpected guest starting at his strange footwear and going all the way up passed his closed eyes. 

The man, if this Desmond could be called that, looked almost entirely human. If it weren’t for the metallic lines covering the hand now touching the Apple or the fact that he was mostly invisible and completely untouchable Altaïr would have thought him to be some sort of long lost relation. 

Desmond was taller, but his features matched Altaïr's to a disturbing degree. He claimed he wasn't a face stealer, but it was hard to believe him when Altaïr had proof like this. 

Similar yet distractingly different. Altaïr was used to seeing his face reflected in water or on the edge of a blade, but this was not a reflection of his face, but instead a copy. Even the trailing from the corner of his lips found it's twin on Desmond's face.

Slowly reaching out, Altaïr kept a close watch on the unnaturally still man as he tested Desmond’s incorporeality. Fingers brushing against something before continuing on, he found only the slightest resistance. His hand eventually swept right through Desmond’s arm and Altaïr pulled his hand back, suppressing a shiver.

It was like pushing through cobwebs; not difficult, but not a pleasant sensation. More like unexpectedly scraping against slate or knocking an elbow in just the wrong way.

Glancing away, Altaïr checked the height of his candles.

More than a minute had passed. In fact, it was closer to five.

He huffed and inspected Desmond’s face once more, but other than the slow rise of his chest under that strange tunic there was no other movement.

An hour, then.

Altaïr wasn’t sure what he could do after an hour, but this couldn’t go on forever. Letting his vision fade to that of a normal man, he scowled at the flickering lights coming from the Apple. 

Many in the order knew of the Apple, a few even going so far as to steal it in the years since he took his place as Mentor, but there were only a handful that had seen it in use. To know of the dangers and see it now supposedly operating by itself would unnerve many of them.

An hour and he would move it inside the desk at least. If Desmond wished to continue this odd ritual Altaïr couldn’t stop him, but he could keep it from affecting his people as much as possible.

He paced for a few minutes, clearing the most sensitive items from his desk and organizing the scrolls he’d pulled out to reference earlier that night. Eventually, Altaïr sat down at his desk and attempted to finish the most recent page of his codex. The information contained came from the Apple, so leaving it out for this interloper wasn’t too dangerous.

No more dangerous than allowing him access to the source.

Annoyance made his motions sharp and he was nearly finished with the page when he realized that instead of sketching out a corner of the map in the ink designed for the eagle's eye, instead he’d illustrated a rough portrait of the man standing across the desk from him.

Growling under his breath, Altair debated setting the page aflame before setting it down carefully. No, it may be useful for those that follow, especially considering that Desmond didn’t look any different from the last time they met five years ago.

He glanced over to check the candles and paused, checking in on the man once again.

Something had changed. The gold of Desmond’s form was bright enough to blind, but the Apple’s new shade of red was slowly leeching up his arm.

As he watched, the vibrant color bled into the strange tunic’s cuff before creeping higher.

‘A will’ Desmond had called it. One that could reach out and snatch the minds of others as it saw fit.

And now it looked like it was trying for Desmond's.

Not surprising. Even animals bite when faced with extinction and a force that could overpower a human was likely to be even more vicious.

Altaïr frowned. He didn’t like the idea of this new unknown will taking over Desmond. The doppelganger might be an unknown, but he didn’t seem malicious. Annoying, yes, suspicious, of course, but so were most people Altaïr was coming to find.

This ‘will’ though had a habit of possessing others, which went directly against what the Brotherhood now stood for.

Glancing at the candles once more, Altaïr tapped his fingers along his desk.

The hour was up and there were still a handful before dawn. 

Across from him, Desmond had yet to move even as the Apple's malicious intent crawled up his arm. Even with only the few things he knew Desmond to be capable of, Altaïr was confident he couldn’t afford for the being to be taken over by the Apple.

Pulling a fresh page close, Altaïr wrote a note in large letters before setting it and the quill he was using aside. That finished, he closed his eyes and centered himself. He prayed to any higher power that would listen that he wasn’t making a mistake, that his wife and their young sons would forgive him if he was.

Then he reached out and put his hand over and then through Desmond’s.

In a blink the familiar walls of his home were replaced by an endless golden plain.

Altaïr had expected a battle, a clash of wills, an obvious sign of the two entities trying to push the other out. Instead, he was standing in a vast emptiness. He looked behind him, only to see another eternity of gold stretching in that direction as well.

Where was Desmond?

Turning to face forward, he jumped back.

He took another crouched step back to make space between himself and the person now standing in front of him. Altaïr’s hand reached for his dagger instinctively before he paused, recognizing Desmond.

In full color instead of hued with gold, he looked even more like Altaïr than ever before, only his height and slightly paler skin tone marking the difference.

“Altaïr?” He looked confused before worry took its place. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“And neither should you.” Altaïr replied. “The Apple is winning.”

“Yeah and that was a risk I was willing to take.” Desmond scratched a hand through his hair, the other resting on his hip. “Even if she took me, it’s not like she’d gain anything from it.”

She? Altaïr ignored that this mysterious ‘will’ had a gender to point out some pertinent facts that Desmond seemed to have forgotten.

“Nothing?” He tried to keep his voice level like that of a teacher instead of a judge, but it was difficult. “You control time to some degree and can ignore both walls and weapons. Will they truly gain nothing?”

That gold lined hand swept out in a careless gesture as Desmond’s face grew pained.

“What good is that if it can’t affect anyone?” He sounded defeated and that fanned the flames of Altaïr’s anger.

“Did you not say that it used your power to force its will upon me when we met last?” Altaïr hissed before taking a deep breath, glaring up from under his hood. “Will you give it another weapon to use against the free will of others?”

That got through to him, if the thinning of Desmond's lips was anything to go by.

“No.” His expression firmed in the face of Altaïr's questioning, but a hint of worry still remained. “But you really shouldn’t be here. You’re so important and you’ve barely begun.”

Barely begun? Altaïr was already well into his thirties and, while he no longer thought he would die young as those days were behind him, he couldn’t imagine this only being the beginning.

“Fine. If you think I shouldn’t be here, then make me leave.” Holding his hands out to his sides, Altaïr threw down the gauntlet. “Do to me what you couldn’t to them.”

This place was completely foreign to him, but surely Desmond could do that much.

Because Altaïr couldn’t.

His skewed doppelganger hesitated, flexing his gold lined hand.

“Or will we be stuck here forever?” Altaïr taunted when the pause started to grate on his nerves.

That made Desmond’s posture straighten, his eyes glinting golden with the vision of an eagle. Reaching out, he grasped Altaïr’s arm.

Surprised that he actually felt it, Altaïr went to look down only to realize that he couldn’t.

“Did you think you could stop me, child?” His mouth asked, the words forming strangely on his tongue. “I don’t know where you’ve been hiding or how you survived, but you clearly learned nothing from your predecessors.”

Desmond’s grip tightened almost painfully. It helped ground Altaïr from where he was frantically fighting against the oppressive presence in his mind.

“Juno, how nice of you to join us.” Tone almost pleasant, Desmond greeted the woman using Altaïr’s form. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“All that scrambling across dimensions you've been doing is just you looking for me?” A chuckle bubbled up and Altaïr wanted her to choke on it.

Desmond shook his head.

“I’ve been trying to not even  _ think  _ about you, lady.” The title was lacking any shred of deference and Altaïr felt a dark satisfaction even as his face curled into a sneer. “But then you went and made yourself my problem. My  _ only  _ problem. And let me tell you, I don’t like dealing with problems, but kicking your ass six ways from Sunday is feeling less like a problem and more like a bonus.”

Head turning slightly, Altaïr’s body sniffed haughtily.

“And how do you intend to do that, boy?”

“I don’t know.” Desmond answered with a shrug and Altaïr’s heart sank even as he heard himself scoff. “I was thinking, maybe something like this?”

The hand around his arm heated up like a brand, lighting up bright enough to cast shadows on Desmond’s face as he frowned in concentration. Altaïr flinched and his eyes widened.

“What are you doing?” Sounding panicked, his head tilted down only to wince away from the bright light.

Ignoring the part of him that was wondering if souls could burn like the Christians always said they would, Altaïr pulled away from the heat, his elbow slipping from Desmond’s grasp with that odd cobweb feeling once again. It was slow at first as the angle didn't give him much leverage and those gold lined fingers were all but immobile, but eventually he stumbled back.

Catching himself, he looked up.

And kept looking up.

The veiled woman still caught in the grip of that gold lined hand was taller than any person Altaïr had ever seen.

“Just tidying up the place. I couldn’t decide whether to start with the most recent problem or the oldest, but then I thought ‘why not both’, right?” Though casual, there was a tight quality to Desmond’s words especially once the woman in his grasp started to struggle harder, using her free hand to push against his. “This Apple is under new management, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“No!” Altaïr assumed this was Juno as she cried out, her voice echoing off the nothingness surrounding them. “You can’t!”

“I know it sounded like a request, but it wasn’t.” Ignoring her, Desmond caught her other arm to hold her still as he stared intently at her face. “That was your final call, it’s time for you to go.”

Beside them a door formed out of nothing. It was finely made if a little worn, each corner square in the frame which stood without a wall to support it. Its metal handle turned, allowing it to swing open towards them. The other side of the door had some faded letters printed on it and somehow Altaïr knew that it said ‘Bad Weather’ even though he was sure he didn’t know the language moments before seeing it.

Inside the now empty frame was nothing. 

Not the golden emptiness that surrounded them, not the vastness of an open sky, but simply a flat, inky void.

“Stop, please!” She tugged against the hold as Desmond pushed her towards the door. “I can teach you everything you need to know!”

“Oh yeah?”

A calculating hope glinted in the woman’s eyes and Altaïr shifted his stance. That was the same look Al Mualim wore when they fought in the garden. If Desmond wouldn’t finish the job, Altaïr would do it himself if possible.

“Yes.” Her echoing voice was cajoling as she leaned down slightly towards her captor, the veil on her hair floating in a breeze that left the rest of them unaffected. “All the things we knew before the Flare. I’ve kept them, preserving the knowledge for any future generations.”

“How interesting.” Desmond leaned forward as well, but Altaïr could see the way his stance widened. “Thanks for letting me know.”

Hooking a foot behind her ankle, Desmond heaved and levered her into the void. Her angry screech cut off as soon as it passed the threshold and he was quick to pull away before her grasping hands could pull him in with her. That gold lined hand reached back and grabbed the door without looking before slamming it shut. He then reached out and turned a lock that wasn’t visible from the side that now faced the void.

In the ringing silence that followed, Desmond rested his hands on the closed door, leaning on it for support while he caught his breath.

“Holy shit,” he muttered just loud enough for Altaïr to hear. 

Straightening, Altaïr gave him a moment to collect himself before his worried thoughts got the better of him and he had to speak up.

“How long has that thing been in the Apple?”

Was she really the one who turned Al Mualim against the Brotherhood?

“Basically forever.” Came the reply as Desmond pushed off of the door which vanished with the next blink of his eyes. “Tens of thousands of years at least.”

And Altaïr was the fool who kept using it thinking it was just a tool, bent to the will of the one who held it. He tsked, angry with himself. How long until it changed him too?

“Is it gone for good?” Was the Apple free from that influence? Would it even retain the knowledge it'd previously bequeathed to him now?

“Yes and no.” Desmond answered unhelpfully before making a nebulous gesture and trying to clarify. “She was never really here, she was just connecting to the Apple. What I did was cut the connection.”

“Every connection?” How likely was Desmond to take her place, Altaïr wondered.

“All but the physical one. Can’t turn that one off without both of us getting stuck here, I think.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “I guess I could do that one too once we’re out, but she’d be able to undo it if she ever got close enough anyway and I think you’d find it more useful if I didn’t. Just be sure to keep it from touching other Isu tech.”

Altaïr’s question on what he meant by ‘Isu tech’ was answered before he could ask it, the golden knowledge of the many other Pieces of Eden appearing in his mind. Putting a hand to his temple to try and push back the headache growing here, he hummed.

Whatever Desmond heard in that hum had him moving forward, reaching for Altaïr once again.

“Right, let’s get you out of here before the unrestricted Apple burns you out.” 

Altaïr flinched, but didn’t pull away as Desmond’s hand touched his.

He blinked and sat up in his chair, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the weak, pre-dawn light.

“There we go. Let me just,” Desmond paused, hand still on the Apple. “Okay, I’ve put a limiter on it.”

Hands rising in response to Altaïr's glare, Desmond defended himself.

“Just enough to keep it from flash frying the brains of anyone who tries to use it.” He tapped the codex page still on the desk meaningfully. “Juno was controlling what you saw, but she also kept it from killing you. Without the limiter it would be like trying to drink a glass of water only to get crushed by the ocean.”

“I see.” Altaïr said, voice gruff from disuse and a night sitting at his desk. “Thank you.”

The thanks was grudging at best, but Altaïr wasn’t too proud to admit when he needed help these days, he just didn’t like it when it came from an outsider.

“No problem - hey, is this me?” Turning his head to see the page better, Desmond looked somewhere between horrified and amused.

“Obviously.” Altaïr wasn’t the best artist, but after all the designs he recorded he thought he was better than average. The disbelief in the other’s tone was both unwarranted and unwanted.

“Oh, man. That definitely wasn’t there before. I wonder if it got lost or if I...hmm.” His words trailed off and Altaïr pulled the page closer to take another look. ‘Got lost’? That wouldn’t do at all. Maybe he could bind all of the pages together to make them harder to lose? But then how would anyone make use of the map?

“Anyway, I, uh, I got what I needed so I’ll leave you be.” Desmond’s farewells were just as terrible as his greetings. “Thanks for letting me do that and for, you know, helping me out in there.”

Altaïr had more questions, but only one was immediately pressing and had no chance of being answered by the Apple.

“If we find Piece, how should we deal with the presence again?”

That stopped Desmond from where he’d been walking towards the stairs. Walking, like his many higher powers would let him do no more. Thinking back, Altaïr remembered that he'd run away on foot the first time too. A limitation to his tricks?

“Uh.” The long pause that followed had Altaïr crossing his arms and Desmond winced in the face of his judgement. “I’ll have to get back to you on that?”

“Some time in the  _ next  _ five years?” Altaïr pressed.

“That long?” Desmond blinked before shaking his head. “I mean, yes I can try.”

Nodding, Altaïr waved him off and opened a drawer to pull out a fresh candle. When he looked back up, Desmond was still standing by the railing.

“What is it?” Some other warning, a portent of the future perhaps?

“What year is it now?” Came the sheepish response.

This was why Altaïr didn’t like getting his hopes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swapping perspectives is fun and so is dunking on how short Altaïr was especially in comparison to the ultra-tall Isu. I'm glad people are enjoying Desmond's fails through time as much as I am.
> 
> Prompt: and neither should you


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desmond’s wondering if he really can fix an almost infinite problem given infinite time.

“How dare you!” Juno’s voice screeched, voice echoing and reverberating off of nothing.

Desmond was pretty sure that this version of the Isu AI was really just a copy that the one back at the temple downloaded to all of the Pieces of Eden because it was always the same thing.

“You can’t do this!” 

He mouthed the words mockingly along with her before rolling his eyes and focusing on locking down the ‘livable’ space on this Apple, the golden expanse collapsing down around him as he did.

The Apples were nice enough to keep what amounted to a user manual on hand. It was massive and Desmond was sure that if he hadn’t been so worried about Altaïr becoming Juno version 2.0 the manual would have crushed his mind like a bug when that Apple uploaded the entire thing to his brain all at once without so much as a by-your-leave.

Not that the information wasn’t handy, it absolutely was. Especially when Juno was trying to kick him out of the artifacts before he could do the same to her. It was just that it almost felt _too_ easy. Desmond wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but usually his luck was worse than this so he felt his suspicion was warranted.

Another block of ‘free space’ got partitioned off and Desmond twisted to the side just in time to catch Juno’s wrist before it could plant an ancient looking knife in his back.

“Give me that.” God, he sounded like a mom talking to their kid. Desmond tightened his grip until she dropped the weapon, snarling like a cornered animal.

Her veil and clothing were disheveled - a reflection of how his mind interpreted the space apparently. Desmond never coded a damn thing in his life so his mind went with what he knew. He was wearing her down so she looked worn.

In his spare time hunting down arrant Pieces of Eden, he wondered if Rebecca or Clay would see things differently in his place. Would it just be lines of code or would it be fully actualized as they understood the building blocks better?

Sharp nails clawing at his face brought him out of his thoughts with barely enough time to save his eye. Golden blood dripped from the scratch through his eyebrow, but Desmond ignored it in favor of setting up his favorite firewall.

The door to Bad Weather was built to last. It was sturdy, didn’t let in the winter chill nor the summer heat, and had one of the best one-way locks Desmond had ever used. As a bonus, because it was so simplistic Juno hadn’t been able to find any way around it besides having one of her flunkies steal the object and connect them to network her way back in.

That’d only happened once so far and, thankfully, he worked on another Apple with tracking capabilities not long after. After clearing that Piece, Desmond got to experience the oh so wonderful two on one battle to clear up that nasty little problem.

A thought opened the door that finally finished materializing. Juno was screaming something or possibly begging, but Desmond had long since realized that muting the connection once it got to this stage was usually for the best.

“Out you go.” He said, swinging the AI fragment through the portal with the ease of long practice. Slamming the door shut, he brushed off his hands before wiping the blood from his face with a sleeve. “That was close.”

Not the first time one of those crazy AI shadows had injured him, but probably the one who got closest to dealing damage he wasn’t sure he could heal from. Not that he’d known he could get injured or heal in this place before she slashed him on the arm that first time, but it seemed to heal up just fine without more than a faint line so he’ll probably be okay.

“One more down, hundreds left to go.” Desmond congratulated himself sarcastically before pulling down the partitions to open up the space once again. Leaving them up wasn’t a problem for him, but he wasn’t sure what would happen if a regular human tried to hold the device with them in place. Given that one of the possible outcomes was trapping them inside the Apple forever, Desmond didn’t want to take any chances. 

Once that was finished he picked up the knife and set the limiter to make sure no one would die from information overload because that training manual was hell on the brain. Desmond was actually thankful he didn’t seem to have a body because the knowledge shared in that first fight would have killed it.

Work and cleanup completed, Desmond pulled away from the Apple which glinted innocently from where it was sitting at the bottom of an underground lake.

“And now, we wait.” Concentrating, he sped up time until about a day was passing for every second he experienced. He absently fiddled with the knife in his hands as the days sped past.

Watching the artifacts wasn’t fool proof as he’d only watch about five years before going back to continue his crusade, but it has helped him preempt two other attempts Juno made by proxy to reconnect the Pieces of Eden.

It would be so much easier if he could just track them all, but the tracking was only possible because Juno knew where they were. Once he turned off what amounted to the device’s ‘wireless connection’ they went dark to the items still in her possession. 

The opposite was also true.

While dropping off a cleaned crystal skull that Desmond configured to only reach out to him, he’d checked Altaïr’s Apple only to see that it’s map was already out of date. 

So now Desmond was working on a bit of a time limit, funnily enough. He needed to get to the locations recorded by the Apples almost directly after he cleaned them or else he’d arrive to find them long gone. The only ones he didn’t have trouble with so far are the ones like this one. Buried too deep for people in this century to find.

He watched as the water wavered around himself and the Apple, not touching him and shifting dramatically ‘day by day’ without any additional light or movement happening within ten meters in any direction. Desmond dabbed at his brow with his free hand to see if the bleeding stopped and frowned as it continued to flow sluggishly.

As if all that wasn’t enough of an issue, it took him forever to find one of the communication devices recommended by a different Apple because they were considered too ‘commonplace’ to track. Which meant that the number of items that weren’t set up to be traced but could hold another version of Juno was currently unknown.

Hopefully it was just hundreds. If there were more, he would think that at least a few would be in the Brotherhood’s hands by his time.

Then again, if they converted their holders to the Templar way of thinking, maybe not?

Whatever the true reasoning was, Desmond was just going to have to try his best and keep checking in on the ones he’s cleared to ensure that they don’t get reinfected. 

Somehow.

Well, he had all the time in the world to figure it out didn’t he?

“Desmond.” The voice resounded in his head and he nearly dropped the knife when he flinched in response to Altaïr’s call.

Pausing time, Desmond pocketed the knife and focused on Altaïr’s presence, a constant in the back of his mind these days which he chalked up to the effects of the crystal skull.

“Duty calls,” he said to the Apple before vanishing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one more part that will be written this month and I think the story will continue after, but maybe not as quickly (because fictober has been a doozy and idk if I've ever written this much in a month before whew). I'm still having a lot of fun with this though. It just may turn into a series, with this story completing once we're (mostly) done with Altaïr's time, and others to follow.
> 
> Prompt: give me that


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malik was tired, but time stops for no man. Or does it?

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Maria looked worriedly between himself and her husband, one hand on the curtain separating the room from the hall. Her face was lined with stress and her eyes were dark, showcasing her poor sleep schedule as of late.

“I am sure.” Malik replied firmly. “Just as I am sure that your husband wouldn’t want you to catch ill from this.”

He wasn’t sure if the two truly loved each other as the two were thankfully private people, but he knew that Altaïr held her in high esteem and that they’d saved one another many times over the last decade or so. The mentor wouldn't want to see her in danger because of his own condition.

She just couldn’t help him now. None of them could.

And so they waited. 

That didn’t mean Maria needed to push herself to the brink, however. They’d been waiting for over a week and a handful of hours probably wouldn't make much difference.

“Go.” Malik insisted gruffly, making a dismissive shooing motion towards the hall. “I will send for you if anything changes.”

“Thank you.” The smile she gave him before she vanished behind the cloth was tired, but sincere.

Scowling, he rubbed at this stump which always ached in the cold and shifted it closer to the brazier to warm it.

He was getting too soft. Or perhaps too sentimental.

Glare shifting to the motionless man near the table, Malik settled back into the comfortable chair they’d set up for this purpose. For nearly eleven days those in the castle kept watch on their immovable mentor.

It was nothing but luck that let Malik be here for this. The trip that brought him here was one he made yearly, as all bureau heads are required to, and originally had nothing to do with Altaïr’s strange affliction. Of course, once he arrived many of the responsibilities of Mentor fell to him as one of the most knowledgeable of their order.

“Sometimes I wonder if you do these things just to make my life difficult.” Malik's comment received no answer from the taller man and he didn’t expect it to.

Rolling his eyes at the silence anyway, Malik shifted and tried to stretch out more comfortably. It wasn’t even midnight and he was already getting stiff. The hazards of old age weren’t as easy to avoid as the blades they’d dodged as younger men.

When he finally settled he cast his eyes around the familiar workroom, debating whether or not he should get up and continue the work on any of the many projects already in progress. Malik was a quick study and more than one of Altaïr’s previous inventions were put together with his help. Unfortunately, the fact that he’d be doing it alone and one-handed made him give up on a more productive sort of waiting for the night.

It was times like this that he felt the sting of his lost arm most acutely. He'd long since modified his habits to account for it while working in his bureau and the aching nights were to be expected at his age, but it was the unexpected limitations like this that made him curse Altaïr once again even though the man had apologized in many ways over the years.

Malik narrowed his eyes at the hooded figure in front of him, checking for any change in that shadowed profile by the mixed light of the small brazier set up beside the chair and the unnatural light emanating from on top of the desk. 

Nothing, not even a blink of Altaïr’s eyes as they looked down at his own hand.

Or rather, what Altaïr’s hand was resting against.

The crystal skull.

Malik still doubted the wisdom of ever using the artifact. In fact, he can’t think of a single time he believed that using _any_ of them was a good idea. Not since Altaïr warned them of the malignant presence that had supposedly been purged from the Apple and what it did to the minds of men.

He remembered when the eerie object was retrieved. How the assassins Altaïr deployed looked skeptical as they rested for the night in his bureau before returning several days later with that glimmering skull in their packs. Every one of the four was wide eyed and jumpy which made sense when they held it out to show him and the voice of this ‘Desmond’ Altaïr once spoke of started echoing inside Malik’s mind.

The memory of Desmond’s almost hesitant request for Malik to try to use the skull still made him shudder. He was almost thankful when they all realized that he couldn’t use it either. 

Desmond’s disappointed murmur explaining that he’d hoped that it would work for anyone who had used an Apple let Malik know that the being could use it to speak to an individual when the younger assassins didn’t react to the revelation.

The skull continued on to Masyaf and Malik had been glad to see it leave.

Seeing it again during his next trip back was unsettling and watching it come to life under Altaïr’s hand was even more so. Still he’d done his best to try and make it work using the mentor’s instructions, but so far only Altaïr could get it to work properly.

What was a boon for Malik’s continued sanity was now a burden.

According to Maria it took almost a full day for the others in their household to realize that Altaïr’s immobility could be related to the feats he’d seen Desmond perform.

An improvement, as they’d all thought him dead and experiencing side effects from using the Apple too much. 

For the last ten or so days it was as if he were a statue, unmoving and immovable. They couldn’t even pull him from the room or sit him down as his skin felt as though it was carved from marble and his form was at least twice as heavy.

Sometime in the night one of them noticed that his eyes were closed only for them to be open again the next day. Careful observation showed that he was moving and possibly breathing, just very slowly when compared to the rest of the world.

Maria told Malik that they’d tried everything, even up to pressing the apple into Altaïr’s hand only for it all to fail. Finally, she’d taken out the crystal skull and tried for hours to make it work. Eventually, she’d fallen asleep at the table beside her husband only to wake up when the skull started glowing, Altaïr’s hand having found its way to the artifact while she slept.

And so it glowed for almost three days now. It glowed as Malik arrived, while they explained the situation, and all throughout his scramble to pull the brotherhood back into some semblance of an order while their mentor was out of commission.

By this time Malik was nearly as tired as Maria was, but he’d dealt with worse than a few hours of lost sleep. He could make up for it in the morning when she inevitably came to take his place at dawn.

All that thinking about sleep made him yawn even as he fought against it.

However, he wasn’t nearly tired enough to miss the light from the skull suddenly winking out. Straightening in his seat Malik narrowed his eyes at the man beside the table.

Malik watched closely, his hand flexing just short of extending the improved hidden blade strapped to his remaining wrist. Was it still Altaïr who stood before him or was that the method of possession the man had warned them about?

He said nothing as Altaïr blinked, turning first to Malik before looking towards the door.

There was a pause before Altaïr spoke.

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

Malik’s eyes glanced between Altaïr and the empty space he now addressed.

“Your time manipulation.” Altaïr scowled at his unseen and unheard visitor. 

Never had Malik wished for the Eagle’s vision more. Information was what bureau’s lived off of, many of the novices who lived in them were there to spy on the local areas and provide the brotherhood accurate gossip.

Hearing only one half of the conversation was _maddening_.

“It affected me once again. You said that you would make sure to say far enough away to not catch me in it again.”

Had he? An odd promise for a powerful being to make.

There was a pause as Altaïr flexed his fingers in the same way he used to when they were young, just before striking put at one of their fellow trainees for saying something completely idiotic. Malik wondered what the other was saying, what excuses they were making.

“Are you sure?” Altaïr eventually pressed, eyes narrowing at something only he could see.

“What is going on?” Tired of being ignored and unsure if this unseen presence was actually an ally of sorts, Malik leaned forward in his chair to try and get a word in edgewise when he couldn’t even hear one of the participants.

Altaïr held a hand up in his direction, apparently wanting to hear the invisible person’s answer before addressing his. 

Rolling his eyes, Malik sat back with a sigh. Typical.

“Malik.” The mentor of his Brotherhood addressed him suddenly. “What is the date?”

“The thirtieth day of October.” He replied waiting a moment of his own before giving a little extra context just to remind them both how annoying this was. “Almost eleven days after you stopped moving.”

Eleven days of worry.

That reminded him. Reaching down, Malik picked up a candle from a basket kept beside the chair and lit it in the brazier before setting it on the window sill.

“1206.” The current year fell from Altaïr’s lips and Malik looked up in time to see the man’s unimpressed look before he clarified. “Seven years since we retrieved the skull.”

Whatever the being said in reply had Altaïr giving a very familiar aggravated sigh. Malik used it whenever novices were being particularly slow.

“You make the world race around me for nearly a fortnight and instead of telling me why you ask about my height?” His agitation is clear in the question.

Ah, someone just as good at missing the point as Altaïr once was. Stifling a smirk at this payback, Malik paid close attention to try and glean what information he could from this one-sided conversation.

“And?” Altaïr returns after a long pause. “How does my taller stature play into this? It shouldn’t matter if I’m forty or twenty. _Why_ are you pulling me into your meddling?”

So the being had noticed it too. While he was sure Maria noticed it before he did, Malik still believed was the first one to actually point it out to Altaïr three years ago.

The man was getting taller and over the span of those years he now stood almost a full head taller than Malik when at twenty-six they had been of a similar height. Altaïr now stood out in the crowds because of it, making it hard for him to blend in with the monks or his fellow brothers.

He watched as Altaïr’s lips thinned in response to whatever the being said.

“I am not one of them.” He growled finally, lips peeling back from his teeth in disgust. “I’m not like the one you forced from the artifact.”

Malik nearly stood, staring at Altaïr in shock. Was that even a risk? If one used the artifacts enough, would they be trapped inside? His brow furrowed in confusion. Why would that change his height?

“They _were_ a race, one that is long gone barring a few ghosts as both you and the Apple we possess have said.” Altaïr shook his head, but didn’t look away.

If Malik wasn’t reeling from the implications he would have congratulated the man’s good sense.

A _race_? They were speaking of those who came before? The builders of the artifacts themselves?

How did they get here from talking about height?

“Altaïr.” Malik waited impatiently until the man glanced at him before continuing. “What exactly is going on here?”

His eyes flicked back to their unseen visitor and he frowned deeply.

“Like my height?” Altaïr asked the air after a long pause.

Uncertain if that was directed at him, Malik hesitated before responding. 

“Among other things, yes.” His height was the least of Malik's worries now.

Altaïr bit his lip before looking away from both of them for a long moment.

“I believe it started when we cleansed the Apple.” He finally said, turning to address them both if his fixed stare on a nearby tapestry was any indication. “I didn’t know it at the time, but after we married Maria asked about it.”

“About what?” Malik pressed, happy to finally get some answers even as the fact that Altaïr knew them for over a decade annoyed him.

In response, Altaïr began to pull up his left sleeve. 

Malik’s teeth were on edge until he realized that it wasn’t an attempt to mock him but a legitimate answer.

On the man's upper arm a delicate pattern of gold glimmered, it’s lines straight and geometric but the shape, it was obviously the same size as a hand.

“I know it wasn’t intentional on your part,” his eyes cut to the side where Malik assumed Desmond still stood. “But it may have been hers. Or even the Apple’s.”

Hurried footsteps sounded down the stone hallway and Altaïr dropped his sleeve back into place just moments before the curtain pulled back. Maria stopped short at the sight of her husband before rushing forward to embrace him.

“Altaïr, are you alright?” She asked, pulling away to inspect him at arm's length.

“As I can be.” His face was serious. 

Maria looked up at him with a sympathetic expression before she controlled it, the set of her jaw reminding Malik once again that she was a formidable woman. Glancing briefly in his direction, she then turned back to Altaïr.

“Have you told him?”

“I just started to.” Altaïr confirmed. 

“Who else knows?” And why was he only learning of this now, Malik wondered irately.

“Just us.” Maria assured him. “I was the one who noticed the changes first. After you confirmed my suspicions, Altaïr was able to pinpoint a few additional unseen changes as well, but the Apple doesn’t share much about their creators so we had no way to confirm and no good reason to contact Desmond.”

“Are you able to confirm-” His question was cut off before could complete it.

“And how many more would she have possessed if we distracted you? No, we waited for a more urgent need.” Altaïr responded to an unheard comment.

Malik rolled his eyes before giving Altaïr a pointed look. After a moment of silence he tried again.

“Are you able to confirm whatever it is now?”

Another moment passed as both Malik and Maria waited for an answer. Eventually, Altaïr sighed.

“Yes.” Came the unhappy answer.

“And?” Malik asked when it was clear no further clarification was coming.

Altaïr swallowed and Maria put a comforting hand on his arm.

“For heaven’s sake, Altaïr.” It was after midnight, the fire was dying, and Malik hated not knowing things. His patience was getting too thin for these damnable pauses. “Just say it.”

“While we can’t be sure of the cause, Desmond thinks it is clear that I’m also becoming one of them.” The silence of this pause was deafening and damning. Bitterly, Altaïr continued. “Those who came before are remaking me in their image. Soon I will be more Isu than human.”

“And when were you planning to tell me?” Malik asked angrily. “What does this mean for our Brotherhood?”

“After you arrived this year, but in a calmer manner.” Raising a brow, Altaïr’s ‘but you can see how that turned out’ went unsaid even though Malik could easily read it in the set of his shoulders. “As for the Brotherhood, they will need a new leader.” 

“Why?” So the man was changing physically. Did that also mean he would go mad? What should they be looking out for?

“Because I’ve already stopped aging as men are supposed to.” Altaïr narrowed his eyes at that same empty space before moving on. Malik knew that look meant that the man might be ignoring what was said for now but he would be coming back to it.

Clearly just realizing that Desmond was still in the room, Maria turned to the empty space before turning back to the table.

“Desmond, why aren’t you using the skull to let us hear you as well?”

Malik’s hand covered his eyes before he pinched the bridge of his nose. He was getting too old and tired for this if he couldn’t remember the device that just brought the being here. A grimace fought its way to his face as the skull lit up and Malik admitted to himself that he may have been too effective at pushing the memory of it from his mind.

“Sorry.” The voice echoed inside his mind instead of his ears and Malik’s shiver in response had nothing to do with the chill of the stone surrounding them. “Altaïr, you don’t need to go immediately. I might not be able to leave without dragging you with me, but this could give me the opportunity to practice _not_ doing that.”

“Thank you Desmond, we will appreciate whatever time you can give us.” Maria stepped in before her husband could say something particularly cutting as he clearly wished to do.

“Of course,” Altaïr allowed. Whatever love he had for his wife might be held behind closed doors, but his love for his children was obvious to any that saw them. To leave both of them while they were still so young must be crushing for him. “But I can’t stay here for much longer. People are already noticing how the years don’t affect me. If I stay here much longer they may think that the Apple is a fountain of infinite youth.”

His words were increasingly bitter and Malik realized that his friend was already thinking of the many years he would likely spend without his family. To have such longevity that he doesn’t seem to age, that _forty_ isn’t yet to _adulthood_ , he would likely outlive them all.

“And who will take your place?” Let it never be said that Malik couldn’t be kind. He moved the subject forward in hopes to distract the man from future pain.

Unfortunately, both Maria and Altaïr looked at him.

“Saw that one coming.” Desmond’s mutter echoed softly in his mind.

Malik glared in the direction of the skull which briefly went dark before flickering back on.

“You can’t be serious.” The proposed replacement said flatly to the current mentor and his wife.

“You have done rather well over the last few days.” Tilting her head slightly, Maria looked at her husband who was beginning to smirk at him.

“Since I have been gone so long, it might be best to do it now while people will think that I am recovering or incapacitated.” Altaïr pointed out.

That would make the transition smoother without a lot of back and forth in the current assignments. Damn him for being right.

“My first order of business is to find a successor.” Malik glared at the two of them before sniffing pointedly at Altaïr. “Not all of us still feel like they’re young men and it looks like I will never wear my age as well as you. I better to start looking now to train someone else to take my place so that I can one day retire and be done with the lot of you.”

Not that it would ever happen. The Brotherhood was his life and he would likely remain a part of it in some capacity until he died. He knew that, but he also knew that it was what many others hoped for and he wasn’t going to point that out to a man who was about to have that snatched from him.

“It doesn’t have to be a clean cut, you know.” Piped up Desmond from the corner of his mind. “If you’re really dead set on leaving with me we could always come back and visit between cleaning out Isu artifacts. The benefits of time travel and all that.”

That caught Malik’s attention.

“So it really is time travel? How?” There were _so many ways_ the Brotherhood could benefit from that.

“It’s complicated.” Desmond replied unhelpfully. “Suffice to say I have a range of about a millennia to go back and forth through and we’ll leave it at that. I’m still not sure how this thing keeps track of it all or how I don’t end up ending the entirety of creation so I usually just take it as it comes.”

It was stunning how lackadaisical he was about the whole thing. Malik didn’t know how Altaïr could stand it. A glance at the mentor showed that the answer was ‘not very well’.

That wouldn’t stop Malik so easily though.

“Fine. I will begin the process of taking over for you and set up an alibi as to why you will disappear frequently. But,” Malik pointed a finger at the skull, “you will also have to agree to help us when needed. Find a way to make that skull work for others so that contact can still be made.”

“I’m going to be here anyway so I’ll give it my best shot.” 

And maybe one day he’ll get used to that echoing voice.

Wait.

“This change, will it make Altaïr also invisible and untouchable like it did to you?”

The voice hummed in Malik’s skull as Desmond obviously thought about his question.

“Probably not since it hasn't happened yet, but I don’t know how travelling with me will affect him long term, so I’m not making any promises.”

That’s it.

“Altaïr,” Malik redirected his pointing finger to the man in question. “Your secondary priority after the hand off and preparing for this will be to find a way to allow those without the vision to see Desmond or at least interact with him.”

He didn’t know if it was possible, but he would hate to lose a genius like Altaïr or an information source like Desmond because of something so asinine. 

“Are you finished with your orders, Mentor?” Maria asked, sounding amused.

“For now.” He gave a derisive sniff when her husband gave that pointed blink that Malik knew meant that he was judging the one he was looking at. The man could judge Malik all he liked, but as Mentor he couldn’t ignore these needs any longer.

“Then let’s get you to your room and we’ll take our leave so that we may all rest well tonight.” Maria pointed out sensibly as ever, offering Malik a hand up. “Tomorrow will be a busy day for all of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know mid forties both is and isn't old, but I already complain about aches and pains at my younger age, so I think Malik would be one to do so at their age.
> 
> That's where this part of this crack fic turned world exploration ends. Future installments continue in the Inconceivable series of which this is the first part! 
> 
> Be sure to follow that or me if you're interested in what's to come as Desmond and his however-many-greats grandpa go on a roadtrip through time (and bicker the entire time I'm sure)!
> 
> Prompt: just say it

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to [esama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama) for providing all of that good good Desmond content. I tried to make the mechanics behind this time travel different from those I've seen in use so hopefully I'm not stepping on any toes lol


End file.
